


The Five Faces of Tragedy: Brotherhood Style

by angeladex



Series: Dysfunctional Teen Mutant Club [15]
Category: X-Men Evolution
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-08-01
Updated: 2008-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-13 05:27:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28898121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angeladex/pseuds/angeladex
Summary: It was weird, he decided, the things he thought about to keep his mind off the agonizingly bad pain that reverberated through his kneecap. Weird, not only because he thought about the pain anyway, but also because he thought about a lot of things that he really didn’t think about a lot of the time.How did it come to this though?When it's your team, the rulebook goes out the window. When it's your teammate who gets injured, you get desperate. And you turn to anyone in your desperation. Even if it's your enemy.
Series: Dysfunctional Teen Mutant Club [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1935622
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	The Five Faces of Tragedy: Brotherhood Style

It was weird, he decided, the things he thought about to keep his mind off the agonizingly bad pain that reverberated through his kneecap. Weird, not only because he thought about the pain anyway, but also because he thought about a lot of things that he really didn’t think about a lot of the time.

 _How did it come to this though?_ He thought, willing his uninjured leg to continue supporting him. _Me, hobbling down the backstreets like a derelict?_ _Me?_ Of course, he’d never have pegged himself as the one to get _shot_ , either. Not when he was about three times _faster_ than your average bullet.

 _Well, congratulations, Maximoff_ , he thought sarcastically to himself, panting heavily as he leaned against the grimy bricks of some old-town building, wincing as he looked behind him at the pattern of blood drips he’d been trailing. _Looks like you’ve found another obstacle to overcome_.

If he’d been marking his trail, it was only a matter of time before they’d find him. _Well, that’s not good_ , he decided, wiping beads of sweat from his forehead. If they found him, he’d just be shot again. Which would be painful. And potentially lethal. But if he was able to just get home – warn the others – then he’d be able to have a clear conscience, at least. And potentially not be in pain. Which _was_ good.

A pitiful sound escaped from somewhere at the back of his throat, and he cursed at himself for what he was about to do, and how much he knew it would hurt. And then, ignoring his injury altogether, he took off; at a speed he really shouldn’t have been running.

Five seconds later, he was at his intended destination, biting back more yelps of agony, cursing like a sailor and ready to black out. He shook from exertion – not the toll of running; that never tired him – but from the sheer force of will he was using to remain cognizant even as dots popped at the corners of his vision.

He glanced back, smirking when he saw no trail of blood to mark where he’d been. Glancing down, however, he saw that a veritable puddle was beginning to form at his feet. He raised his hand to the door slamming his fist down as hard as he could…before slipping into darkness. He grinned, feeling the door opening, even as he fell inside. The last thing he heard was the sound of his sister screaming.

* * *

When it came down to it, Todd decided Fred handled the stress best. Wanda was adamant about _not_ going to a hospital, Lance had just up and left, and his own mind had just sort of gone blank. Fred was actually asking questions and making suggestions. That was a start, at least.

Deep down, Todd Tolensky really did _like_ his mutation, despite its low rank on the popularity scale. It just made it all the more surreal, then, to look at his teammate – he couldn’t really call Pietro his _friend_ , though he knew that’s what they grudgingly were – and wonder; could something like that happen to him? One second, he could be fine; pranking everyone, annoying the hell out of Wanda, and the next…he could be shot. Who would shoot Pietro? Sure he was annoying, but…to shoot him? And in the knee? That was just low.

“He needs a doctor, Wanda,” Fred was saying, looking in worry at Pietro’s knee.

“ _Not_ an option,” Wanda snapped, pacing.

Todd had never seen her this way. Almost…motherly. It really didn’t suit her.

“All I’m sayin’ is that we can’t just leave it alone, Wanda; if it doesn’t kill _him_ , he’ll definitely kill _us_. It’s his _knee_. What’s Pietro without his speed?”

“I know.”

“We have to _do_ something.”

“I _know_.”

“Do _I_ have a say in this?” Pietro’s voice floated over to them from the couch.

Wanda wordlessly hurried back to the sofa and offered him a glass of water. Pietro took it, choking it down like it was the last liquid he’d ever drink. Todd glanced over Pietro’s knee, surprised to see that the blood had stopped seeping through his jeans, though some still dripped onto the couch. Mystique would’ve had a fit.

Pietro seemed to follow Todd’s gaze, looking at the wound and scowling. To Todd’s horror, Pietro proceeded to rip a bigger hole in the knee of his jeans, and then jam his fingers into the heart of his wound, making more blood immediately bubble up and seep down to the upholstery, darkening the stain that was already there. Lance, who’d just come back in, abruptly left again, muttering about masochism.

Wanda pulled Pietro’s fingers out of his knee; the blood was oozing at the same rate it had been before, and Pietro was grimacing. “Don’t do that,” she mumbled, but without venom. “You have a _fast_ tolerance for pain. Not a _high_ one. Much more of _that_ and you’ll probably die.”

“Promises, promises, right?” Pietro wheezed quickly, looking like he was fighting hard to not pass out again.

“Pietro…why’d you do that?” Fred finally asked, looking queasy as the blood began to dribble down the tattered sofa and onto the floor. Todd couldn’t help the grin that came to his face as he imagined the look on Mystique’s face if she ever saw these stains – He sure wasn’t cleaning them up, and he doubted anyone else would, either. 

“His knee’s trying to heal itself,” Wanda was explaining, looking again at the knee in question. “He’s a really fast healer and all, but his knee’s healing _wrong_. He has to make sure the injury stays open until we can fix it _right_. Or at least get the bullet out.”

“How d’ya know this stuff, pumpkin?” Todd found himself asking – the first words he’d spoken since Pietro had collapsed into the door.

“I broke my arm once…when we were kids,” Pietro answered arduously, grinning a little as Wanda glared indignantly at Todd for his little pet name. “…same deal…y’know, except there wasn’t a surgery involved that time.”

“How did you fix it then?” Fred asked. “And could we do it again?”

“Father fixed it,” Wanda answered, shaking her head. “And this is different.”

“How is it different?” Fred insisted.

“We need to remove a _bullet_ , without causing permanent damage to his _knee_ ,” Wanda snapped.

“Okay.”

“And we need to make sure that some whacked out doctor with a grudge against mutants isn’t holding the scalpel to _do_ it.”

“Okay...we need to find a doctor who _doesn’t_ have a grudge against mutants.”

“No,” Todd interrupted, surprised as the simple answer came to him. “We need a mutant who’s as good as a doctor, yo! Professor X! From the Idiot’s Institute!”

Fred grinned. “Perfect.”

Pietro frowned. “Not perfect.”

Fred frowned too. “Why not, Pietro?”

“I don’t want those guys in my head,” Pietro bit out vehemently; Todd was surprised at the forceful tone he’d adopted, considering the amount of blood he’d lost. He was surprised that Pietro was conscious at all, actually, considering he’d been _shot_.

“Pietro,” Wanda said carefully, “It’s better than nothing.”

Todd tried to bend his mind around how _weird_ it was to hear Wanda almost show such blatant compassion, even if Pietro _was_ her twin.

“I think we should do it.” Todd turned to see Lance enter nonchalantly, hands in his pockets, looking uninterestedly at the ceiling. “Better idea than taking him to a hospital, anyway.”

“Where’ve you been, oh ‘fearless leader?’ Afraid of a little blood?” Pietro snapped at him, folding his arms across his chest tetchily.

Lance didn’t answer, opting instead to continue his assessment of the ceiling. If Todd didn’t know any better, he’d have thought Lance was squeamish or something.

“So are we going, or what?” Lance said at last, breaking the awkward silence that had settled and pulling his keys out of his pocket.

“Oo! I call shotgun!” Todd exclaimed then, hopping up and down enthusiastically. He could practically _hear_ everyone roll their eyes, and he grinned as Lance marched past, muttering about needing gas. He held the door for Fred, who had turned, making to pick Pietro up in his massive arms and carry him.

“Hey, _hey_ , Blob! Whaddaya think you’re doing? I can hobble there _myself_!”

“Don’t even _think_ about it, Pietro,” Wanda said threateningly, her fist glowing blue.

Pietro paled, settling quickly into Fred’s waiting arms, and Todd couldn’t help laughing at the comic image – like Shaggy and Scooby-Doo when they encountered the ghost – except Wanda was much, _much_ scarier than a ghost.

Pietro glared in Todd’s direction. “You’re lucky I’m injured, you amphibian, or I’d carry you to the North Pole and _leave_ you there in a _second_!”

Todd felt kind of bad when, at that moment, Fred shifted slightly, and Pietro yelped in pain. He’d forgotten there for a moment that this was actually really serious – leave it to Pietro to make him forget something like that.

He glanced worriedly up at Pietro as Fred passed – only to have the former smack him upside the head from his perch.

“Take a picture, Toad; it’ll last longer.”

Todd rolled his eyes, and continued to hold the door – he grinned in what he hoped was an endearing way as Wanda passed him, but she glared at him like he was some sort of bug she’d just found in her food and shoved him roughly away as she passed, barking at him to shut the door and get a move on.

Todd sighed, but nonetheless did as he was told, shrieking indignantly when Wanda took the vacant seat next to Lance. Where was the justice?

“Toad, get in before I leave you here,” Lance ordered, jerking his thumb towards the back seat, where Fred was taking up two-and-a-half seats, still holding Pietro in his arms. Pietro looked none too happy with the seating arrangement. Todd just grinned, taking up the half-seat that was available, deciding that he’d gotten the better end of this deal after all. At least _he_ wasn’t being carried like a baby.

* * *

Fred was quiet throughout the drive to the institute. Wanda argued with Lance’s driving, Todd tried to direct him through back alleys that he said were ‘short-cuts and Pietro swore loudly every time his leg was jostled. Fred apologized, since he was the one holding Pietro, but Pietro seemed to find that annoying, too.

Fred spent this time thinking. Pietro hadn’t yet said anything about what had happened. They hadn’t asked; they’d been more worried about how to _fix_ what had happened, not the happenings themselves.

What _had_ happened, though? Pietro was way faster than bullets. It’s what had saved him with the whole sentinel mess, though he’d admittedly been busy _ignoring_ the rest of the Brotherhood at that time to switch to Magneto’s team.

“ _Shit!_ ”

“Sorry, Pietro,” Fred said mechanically. Todd sat beside him, sniggering.

“Stop apologizing, Blob, it’s annoying! And would you do me a favor and sit on Toad?”

“Whatsamatter, Pietro? You afraid of a little slime?”

As Pietro started bickering with Todd, Fred found himself coming back to his thought process. Maybe the question wasn’t ‘ _What happened_.’ It was kind of obvious what had happened, even if they didn’t know the whole story. But then, what _was_ the question?

“Do you have to hit _every_ fucking _bump_!? I’m injured here!”

“Calm down, Pietro.”

“Go to Hell.”

Fred grinned as Wanda and Lance looked at each other – they’d both spoken at the same time, though Wanda hadn’t been as succinct as Lance in her choice of words.

Pietro glared murderously at the pair, but didn’t say anything. Todd continued to snicker, and Fred tightened his hold on Pietro, who huffed in annoyance.

Fred watched the houses get ritzier and ritzier, glad that they were almost there. The tension in the little jeep was ready to reach a boiling point. _What, when, where, why, how and who? What happened? Pietro was shot. When? Half an hour ago. Where? Maybe that’s the question. Where_ had _Pietro gone?_

“ _Goddammit_!”

“Sorry Pietro.”

“Blob, stop _apologizing_!”

“Sorry.”

Pietro sighed loudly.

 _What about Why? Why did it happen?_ Fred grinned, looking down at Pietro, who was in the middle of threatening Toad with very violent decapitation. _Maybe Pietro offended them_. It wasn’t the first time bad consequences had come of Pietro’s mouth.

 _How did it happen?_ Fred suspected it had been an accident. Because Pietro was just too fast to get shot deliberately.

 _Who_. Fred frowned. _Who would do something like this?_ As Pietro, deciding he no longer cared, sat up, trying to bodily tackle Todd, Fred looked at the wound. He was surprised to see that Pietro’s blood had started dripping down his arm. Pietro froze then, his face contorted in a hideous, twisting grimace.

_“OWSHITSHITFUCKINGHELLGODDAMMITALL!!”_

“Sorry, Pietro,” Fred mumbled as Pietro’s fingers clawed his arm in a frenzied way, trying to cradle his knee, but trying to pull away at the same time. It was almost heartbreaking to see; Pietro was never at a loss of words, simply because he was fast enough to snap out quips… but Pietro couldn’t think of enough cusses to effectively convey his pain.

 _Who did it?_ Fred decided that _that_ was the main question, because when he found them, they were dead.

* * *

Watching Wanda when she was pissed off – and not pissed off at you – was actually kind of awe-inspiring. Going through the gate of the Asshole Academy – sorry – Xavier’s Mansion – entailed a full frontal assault, as Lance had discovered himself when he’d done his stint there. Wanda could do full frontal assault in her sleep.

Lance stole a peek at Todd, smirking when he saw the slimy boy’s expression of terror, looking at the smoking craters that used to be statues or death-rays.

“W-Wanda? Babycakes? Didja hafta be so…thorough?”

Wanda said nothing, glaring at Todd.

“Oh. R-right.”

“Blob, would you put me down? I think I can get to the stupid –”

Fred didn’t speak, but Wanda’s glare pierced Pietro speechless. The speedster muttered mutinous, incoherent words at his sister, but nonetheless, stayed planted in Fred’s arms. They passed through the twisted metal of the gate (courtesy of Wanda) in silence.

“Pietro…uh…your wound’s closing up again,” Fred noted.

Lance could have sworn that Pietro’s face melted into a terrified expression – but it was a fleeting thing, if it had been there at all, and Pietro’s face became impassive.

“Well, that’s not good, is it?”

A split second later, Lance had turned away, looking heavenward and counting slowly to himself. Not seeing it didn’t stop him from hearing Pietro’s wretched cry of pain, and he wished he could distance himself from the house they were approaching.

He knew he was coming off to his teammates as an insensitive prick, but it was for their own safety. His mutation – his geokinesis – was linked…not to his emotion, more than his state of mind. He supposed it was a sort of…empathetic connection he had to the earth itself. Keeping himself calm was more important right now than being there for his friend – even if he did feel like a jackass doing it.

“When’re the stupid x-geeks gonna get here, yo? Ain’t heroes s’posed to rescue the smartass prettyboys in distress?”

Lance felt a surge of anxiety pulse through him when he didn’t hear Pietro make any sort of reaction to Todd’s baiting, but almost on cue, Kurt appeared in front of them, followed immediately by Kitty, who rose up from beneath the ground like a spectre, pulling Rogue with her. He noted that others were coming out the door too, but he didn’t focus for too long on them.

“Lance?” It was Kitty who’d spoken up, taking in the scene before her with wide eyes. “You totally killed our security system,” she said at last, eyes meeting his.

“Freddy, you’re bleedin,’” Rogue said then, pointing to his massive arm, which was dripping copious amounts of Pietro’s blood onto the grass.

“No he’s not,” Wanda interjected, as Fred stepped closer to Xavier’s students, and Pietro groaned piteously.

“Kurt, get the professor!” Rogue said next, and Kurt obligingly disappeared in a plume of foul-smelling smoke.

“What happened?” Kitty asked reverently, stepping closer, looking at the wound, which was bubbling fresh blood.

“He was shot,” Wanda said brusquely.

“I could…I could take the bullet out,” Kitty continued, reaching for Pietro’s knee.

“I could’ve done that,” Wanda growled. “We wanted a doctor’s consult.”

Kitty pulled her hand back, looking like she’d been slapped. She took a step back, just as Kurt reappeared, clutching the back of Professor Xavier’s wheelchair.

Xavier wasted no time – he brought his hand immediately to the level of Pietro’s face, touching his forehead briefly. Lance’s stomach dropped to his feet when Pietro went completely limp in Fred’s arms.

“What’d ya do?” Todd asked meekly, looking at Pietro in worry.

“I put the suggestion in his mind to sleep – he was in pain,” Xavier said comfortingly.

“He was crackin’ jokes n’ cussin’ at us the whole way up here,” Fred said slowly, his eyebrows knitted together as he held the now comatose Pietro in his large arms.

“Most would have passed out from exhaustion,” Xavier insisted, shaking his head. “He must have an exceptionally high tolerance for pain.”

“He has an exceptionally _fast_ tolerance for pain,” Wanda corrected.

Xavier nodded thoughtfully. “Quite. Jamie?”

“Yessir?”

Lance jumped at the voice to the right of his shoulder. Jamie Madrox. Multiple. The one who could clone himself. Lance hadn’t even noticed that anyone else was here.

“Find Hank. Tell him to get to the infirmary immediately, and to prepare some anesthetic.”

“It won’t work.”

Xavier looked up at Wanda, who was shaking her head. “It burns through his system faster than air. It’s useless.”

Xavier sighed. “Allright. Jamie, just tell Hank to prepare for surgery. We’ll have to improvise.”

Jamie nodded, punching his small fist into his hand, making about seven duplicates of himself, who all then took off in the direction of the mansion, splitting up as they got closer. Lance assumed they would all search a different area of the house until Mr. McCoy was found. Smart.

“Can’t you just keep him sleeping, Professor?”

Lance started again as the voice of Scott Summers spoke from behind him. Where had they all come from?

Xavier was shaking his head. “I’ll need to concentrate completely on his knee. This is a tricky process anyway, even if the patient wasn’t a mutant.”

“His knee is healing itself,” Wanda interrupted again. “So we have to hurry.”

“Scott, get Jean. Kurt, if you can help Mr. Dukes get our friend to the infirmary?” Xavier wasn’t raising his voice at all, but he emanated such an authority that everyone snapped to attention to do what he said immediately. “Wanda? I would like your permission to look in your mind.”

“Why?” Wanda asked immediately. “Shouldn’t you be looking in Pietro’s mind? I don’t know what happened to him.”

“You know things about Pietro. You share traits with him, being his twin. Allergies, Blood type, food he eats, pills he may take – any of these things may affect how we go about the procedure.”

Wanda nodded, crouching to Xavier’s level. Lance watched in interest as the crippled man touched her temples, closing his eyes as he collected the information he’d need. A moment later, he pulled away, nodding. “Thank you. That was most helpful. Kitty?”

Kitty moved from where she’d been standing next to Rogue.

“I need you to start Cerebro. I’ll join you shortly.”

Kitty nodded, phasing through the grass and disappearing from view.

“Teach? Pietro’s gonna be okay, right?”

Lance turned in surprise to see none other than Evan Daniels, in all his armored glory, holding a skateboard in one arm.

“We’re going to do everything we can, Evan.”

Kurt reappeared again, looking slightly dizzy. “Vhere to, professor?”

“Cerebro. And then I think you should get yourself something to eat.”

Kurt grinned. “I vas hoping you’d say that.”

With another _bamf_ , Kurt had teleported away, and the remaining group glanced nervously at each other.

Lance grinned as Todd interrupted what could have been an awkward silence. “Where’s all the grown-ups, yo? Or are you between nannies right now?”

It was Rogue who answered. “Logan’s off and away doin’ what he does, an’ Ororo’s sick.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Fun for us. We get Mr. and Mrs. Perfect to substitute.”

Lance glanced at the new voice – it was another younger kid – Amara? Wasn’t she the chick with the fireballs?

“I dunno about you guys, but I’m hungry as all hell. We just restocked the kitchen, so who’s for eats?”

This last was older, but still one of the younger ones. Roy. Ron?

“Smart boy,” Rogue said, smiling, as she fell into step beside Lance.

“What’s his name again?”

“Ray Crisp. Berserker.”

“I knew it was something like that.”

“You good, Rocky?”

Lance grinned. “Good enough, all things considered.”

_Bamf_

“Rogue, the professor needs you. And then ve have to find Kätzchen. Have I mentioned how much I hate being the telephone?”

Rogue took Kurt’s proffered, pronged hand, and without another word, he teleported away again.

Lance sighed. Maybe they should have just taken their chances with the doctor. Less hassle that way, anyway.

* * *

It was strange, she decided, the things she thought about to keep her mind off the horrendously bad situation at hand. Strange because of the bizarre surrealism of it – being among so many mutants that were usually her enemies on the battlefield – and a little bit because of the fact that her mind was playing tricks on her.

How else could she remember these little, seemingly insignificant things with such ease, when she had such difficulty remembering why she didn’t like the color white? Just the other day, she’d looked at Pietro’s shock of hair in distaste, and the ambiguous thought had come to her that she hated the color. Trying to discern the reasoning behind it, she’d come up blank. And then Wanda had felt a surge of dislike for the Professor, Charles Xavier, when he’d asked to read her thoughts. Linked with this dislike were palpable feelings of frustration, anger and betrayal. But she didn’t know _why_.

Upon coming into the large manor itself, when the gaggle of people had headed for the kitchen, Wanda had gone off alone, and no one had dared follow her. She had mused how interesting it was that all of the teens here, enemy or ally, were united in their fear of _her_.

Without realizing it, she’d almost immediately found their infirmary. She’d sighed, supposing it was a ‘twin thing,’ and sat down among the other people there, all of whom were sleeping. No surprise, since it had been past midnight when they’d arrived. There was Fred, of course, and then Scott Summers, Evan Daniels…even Lance’s girlfriend, Kitty Pryde.

She’d surprisingly found herself engaged in conversation with a twelve-year-old boy (He insisted he was twelve-and-three-quarters) while who she assumed was his twin slept against the wall. That assumption died when the boy’s digital watch beeped and he proceeded to _merge_ his body into that of the other, identical boy’s, only to separate once more in two. He could get rested that way, he’d said. As long as one clone was sleeping, he could stay awake in shifts with…himself…and let the others sleep.

She’d talked with him, and been surprised at how smart he was, and how easily the conversation flowed; been even more surprised that he wasn’t scared of her.

 _“Scared?”_ he’d looked bemused. _“I’ve seen things_ loads _scarier than you. No offense.”_

She wasn’t sure when it was she’d fallen asleep. She just knew that the topics of their discussion seemed to blur together, and at some point, she imagined their conversation to be entirely fictional, because that boy, Jamie, was waking her up. She blinked slowly, calmly making the transition from slumber to wakefulness, mindful that she didn’t want to disturb anyone else.

“The Professor’s asking for you,” Jamie said quietly.

Nodding, she went through the glass doors, turning the corner and inwardly bracing herself for anything. She was surprised to see a scene of all but utter tranquility – A large blue man who looked somewhat like an ape was wrapping a bandage around her brother’s knee with more tenderness than she’d thought possible from his large hands, while Jean Grey monitored another patient in the next bed – it was Rogue.

“Ah, Wanda. I wanted to let you know how the procedure went.”

The voice came from behind her, where she observed a slightly haggard-looking Professor Xavier clutching a cold compress to his head.

Wanda nodded tersely.

“He should make a full recovery. Judging by what we’ve seen since Mr. McCoy re-wrapped it, the injury is already mostly healed, and Pietro will be good as new within the course of the day,” Xavier gestured to the blue ape-like man, who waved politely. Wanda supposed he was Mr. McCoy.

“He’s always been a fast healer,” she said at length, nodding to Mr. McCoy to show her appreciation.

“It’s remarkable. I haven’t seen such speed in healing since that of my colleague, Logan.”

“Will there be any side-effects?”

“As far as we can tell at the moment, no. The knee is healing correctly, and magnificently, and as long as it continues to do so, and as long as Pietro is careful, he won’t even walk away from this with a limp.”

“How will it affect his speed?”

“He shouldn’t run at _full_ speed for at least a week.”

“Will he be in any pain?”

“It differs from patient to patient. Since Pietro has this ‘fast tolerance’ for pain, it’s likely that any pain he does have will be fleeting to him.”

Wanda frowned. “How do you know all of this?”

“A rather ingenious thought of Kitty’s – she pulled Cerebro’s helmet up through the sub-basement floor and I was able to read the mind of one of the most advanced orthopedic surgeons in the country – he’s based right here in New York, imagine – and Mr. McCoy performed the procedure.” Xavier said all of this without batting an eye – he didn’t seem fazed by Wanda’s abruptness in asking questions. He almost seemed to encourage her to continue.

“Is Rogue all right?”

“With some bed rest she’ll be fine.”

“What happened?”

“We had hoped for her help during the procedure – to be our last resort if things went badly – but she accidentally touched me.”

Wanda frowned. “Why aren’t you on the hospital bed then?”

“I was wearing Cerebro at the time.”

“Oh.”

“We think her powers might have rebounded on her – she’s never imprinted me before, and we believe the shock was too great.”

At that instant, a gaggle of people fell through the door – Wanda noted in amusement that half the crowd was Jamie Madrox.

“We wanted to see what was going on,” one Jamie said apologetically, scuffing his toe on the floor.

“And we were too noisy about it and we woke the others up,” another Jamie continued, pointing to the others around him.

“We didn’t mean to intrude, Professor.”

This last was Scott Summers, looking adequately ashamed to be caught eavesdropping. Had Lance been there, he would never have let the poor guy live it down.

Later, when Wanda was waiting impatiently for Toad to stop chasing Nightcrawler around the yard, and Pietro was whining how much longer everything took when he couldn’t use his powers; when Lance was in a private conversation with Kitty, and Fred was sitting quietly in the back seat, the epitome of ‘anti-Pietro’ with the very aura of patience seeping off of him in bricks – Wanda thought again how very strange it was; how everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours was actually pretty normal for their lives.

As they’d been leaving, Xavier had lagged behind. He’d told her what he’d found when he’d been connected with Pietro’s mind; told her that his getting shot hadn’t been an accident. It had been both a relief and a hindrance to her mind, and she’d politely thanked him for passing the information to her, intending to promptly forget it. The Brotherhood didn’t need any more trouble.

If there really was some anti-mutant terrorist group after their lives, they could deal with it when it came. Besides; if they wanted to tangle with _her_ boys, they’d have to answer to _her_. And it wouldn’t be pretty.


End file.
